


Life After Arthur

by OwlsWithFins



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (minor but tagging just in case), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Banishment, Canon Era, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunken magic, Drunkenness, First Kiss, Intoxication, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin doesn't know it yet but he deserves all the love and happiness in the world, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), POV Merlin (Merlin), Post-Episode s03e10: Queen of Hearts, Post-Magic Reveal, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, thankfully Gwaine is up for the challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25623409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlsWithFins/pseuds/OwlsWithFins
Summary: “So what brings you my way?” Gwaine asked. To anyone but Merlin, it might have been startling to hear the man sound so somber, but Merlin knew Gwaine could take life seriously when he wanted to. He played the fun-loving drunk as well as Merlin played the fool, but Gwaine had his demons as well. Maybe that was why Merlin came here instead of Ealdor or wherever Lancelot was at the moment.Merlin forced himself to look up. “I guess I could just use a friend right now."When Merlin is banished from Camelot after his magic is revealed, he struggles to believe he has worth outside of Arthur and their supposed destiny together. But Gwaine has always known Merlin deserved better.
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 448





	Life After Arthur

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! When I first started writing fanfiction, I made a vow that I would stick to one fandom because I knew once I started writing fic for every piece of media I enjoyed I would never go outside again. This fic is proof that I have failed. 
> 
> I've got a whole folder full of Merlin drafts that I'll hopefully finish editing soon, but we're starting off with some Merwaine. Hope you enjoy!

_You're not my homeland anymore_

_So what am I defending now?_

_You were my crown, now I'm in exile, seein' you out_

_\- Taylor Swift & Bon Iver_

* * *

It might have been funny that the first place Merlin went was a tavern, if Merlin could ignore the situation long enough to appreciate the irony. But nothing seemed funny anymore, and Merlin wondered if anything ever would again. He wondered if Arthur would find it funny if he knew. Then again, Arthur had learned the truth when he caught Merlin in the midst of de-aging after fleeing his execution, so he knew Merlin wasn’t really at the tavern. 

For the hundredth time since Merlin had taken his horse and left Camelot in accordance with his banishment, he wondered if things would have gone differently had the guards not been there. If Arthur had found out on his own, would he have given Merlin time to explain? Would he have kept his secret? But questions like that were of no use to anyone. Merlin should have just been grateful he wasn’t executed. Arthur had argued on Merlin’s behalf, stating that the many times Merlin had saved Arthur’s life surely demanded mercy. Of course, Uther had decided that was why Merlin did all of those things in the first place: to ensure the royal family was indebted to him so he could escape proper punishment for his crimes. The only reason Merlin had lived long enough to escape was that he already burned his own pyre as Dragoon. While he was locked in the dungeon, waiting for them to rebuild it, Arthur had helped him escape.

_“Arthur, I--”_

_“I don’t want to hear any more of your lies,” Arthur said, unlocking the cell door. “I won’t have you executed--even though that_ is _the punishment for sorcery--but I never want to see your face again. You are henceforth banished from Camelot.”_

Merlin could only nod, unable to say ‘thank you’ because he wasn’t sure exile was a better fate than death. Not when his destiny was crumbling around him. Not when Arthur was looking at him with betrayal, and confusion, and something angrier--perhaps even hatred. Not when this meant he couldn’t say goodbye to Gaius or Gwen. At least Arthur had given him his horse, tethered just outside the grate through which they had helped Mordred escape and saddled with supplies for his journey. Maybe that meant Arthur still cared for him, even if it wasn’t enough to erase the chasm between them. 

Merlin shook those thoughts from his head, forcing himself back to the present. The stench of the tavern was overwhelming, and Merlin felt sticky even though he hadn’t touched anything. He had heard word that the woman who ran the place made the strongest brews around, and that sounded promising given Merlin’s endeavor. When he passed the bar, the woman behind it offered him a tankard of mead. He almost took it. He didn’t drink--for good reason with the way his magic got out of hand when he was intoxicated--but today he almost wanted to. Before he could consider the pros and cons of becoming a raging alcoholic (with the major con being the possibility of razing the entire village with his magic by accident), he needed to make sure this was the right tavern. Last time, he’d had to search every tavern in the area, so it wouldn’t do to get drunk the first place he went in case he had to continue his search afterward. Still, it was tempting to imagine his sorrow burning away as the fiery liquid coursed down his throat. 

Despite the ache in his heart and the heaviness settled around his shoulders, Merlin’s lips twitched when he saw the person he was looking for. “Hello, Gwaine.”

“Merlin!” he called out, offering an easy smile. “Does Arthur need us on another quest already?” Gwaine must have noticed the way Merlin’s face fell because his smile faded quickly. “Have a seat, my friend.”

Unlike last time when Merlin had stumbled upon Gwaine in the middle of a fight, Gwaine was sitting at a table--rather than being thrown onto it face first--with a tankard he appeared to have paid for. Merlin sat down across from him and stared at his hands. Gaius would chide him for moping if he saw him like that, but Gaius was in Camelot and Merlin would never get chided by him again.

“So what brings you my way?” Gwaine asked. To anyone but Merlin, it might have been startling to hear the man sound so somber, but Merlin knew Gwaine could take life seriously when he wanted to. He played the fun-loving drunk as well as Merlin played the fool, but Gwaine had his demons as well. Maybe that was why Merlin came here instead of Ealdor or wherever Lancelot was at the moment.

Merlin forced himself to look up. “I guess I could just use a friend right now.”

Gwaine smiled, but it was the smile of the lonely traveler afraid to settle down rather than the handsome swain. “Then you came to the right place.” He pushed his tankard across the table.

Merlin only hesitated a moment before taking it gratefully. As the first sip burned down his throat, he wondered what it would feel like for the rest of him to burn--for the pyre to go up in flames with him attached. For Arthur to watch with that mix of betrayal, confusion, and hatred.

“I take it you don’t drink much.” He said it lightly, like a tease, but there was concern, too, as Gwaine watched Merlin swallow more of the harsh liquor.

Merlin shook his head. Then, realizing he wasn’t in Camelot and Arthur already knew-- _Uther_ already knew--Merlin said, “It makes my magic unpredictable.” He studied the man before him, awaiting his reaction. Would it be condemnation? Disgust? Betrayal, like Arthur?

But Gwaine only lifted his brows at the admission. “Should I be worried? I’ll admit that I’m intrigued by the idea of drunken magic, but perhaps we should wait until you don’t look so miserable.”

Merlin frowned after taking another swig. “You’re not angry?” 

Gwaine’s brows furrowed. “Angry?”

“I have magic. I _hid_ my magic from you.” 

Gwaine gave a startled laugh, looking at Merlin like he was crazy. “Mate, you live in Camelot.” _Used to live in Camelot,_ Merlin corrected in his head. “How could I judge you for keeping a secret that could get you killed if anyone found out?”

Merlin looked into his tankard, both hands wrapped around it the way he would hold tea when Gaius made it for him. “Arthur didn’t see it that way.” 

“Arthur knows? Then you--shit, Merlin. He banished you?” 

Merlin bit his lip and nodded, feeling tears sting his eyes. Having someone else say it, it suddenly felt real. The ‘what ifs’ didn’t matter anymore, but the reality was even more painful. Merlin would never get to go home again. He would never see Gwen or Gaius or Arthur. He wouldn’t get to help bring about the Golden Age of Albion or return magic to the land. Arthur would never repeal the ban on magic now--not after this betrayal. What was the point of living now that his destiny was gone?

“That bastard.” There was a thud, and Merlin looked up to find that Gwaine must have ordered another flagon at some point because he crashed it down onto the table. Liquid sloshed over the rim, but he didn’t seem to notice. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Gwaine--” Merlin started to protest, but Gwaine interrupted. Which was probably for the best since Merlin didn’t think he would be too swayed by the ‘at least he didn’t let his father kill me’ argument. 

“No, listen,” Gwaine said. “You’d do anything for him. Even I can see that, and I haven’t known either of you for half as long as you’ve known each other.”

“...but I _lied_ to him,” Merlin practically whimpered. “The entire time.”

“Keeping a secret so you don’t get executed by a mad king for breaking an unjust law isn’t the same thing as lying, Merlin.”

“But Arthur--”

“Oh, fuck Arthur,” Gwaine exclaimed. “If he was as good a man as you seem to think he is, you wouldn’t be here nursing a broken heart, now would you?”

“He didn’t have a choice. The guards saw me do magic.” Merlin didn’t know why he said that. He _should_ be angry at Arthur, shouldn’t he? Gwaine certainly was. Will would have been, too, if he hadn’t died for a destiny Merlin could no longer hope to achieve. But Merlin couldn’t make himself feel anger--only loss. For some stupid reason, he felt the need to _defend_ Arthur. A man who never wanted to see him again.

“You think if they hadn’t been there Arthur would have kept you around?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Merlin sighed, taking another sip. It didn’t seem to be helping his mood, but he could feel his magic thrumming through him, lazy and then quick, like it was shaking off the alcohol even as his mind grew hazier. “I’d like to think so, but there’s no way to know for sure.” 

Gwaine took a long drink from his own tankard. “He doesn’t deserve you,” he said again, and this time Merlin didn’t say anything in response. They drank in silence for a while, or rather, they drank silently in the midst of the tavern ruckus around them. 

“He was supposed to be my destiny,” Merlin mumbled into his drink. 

“I didn’t know you swung that way, my friend.”

Merlin snorted a little, shaking his head. Apparently the alcohol was kicking in more than he thought if Gwaine’s jokes were starting to be funny again. “Not like that. There’s a prophecy about the Once and Future King uniting Albion and bringing magic back to the land. Arthur’s that king, and it’s my job to help him. Was,” he corrected. “It _was_ my job to help him. Or it was supposed to be. I guess the dragon was wrong.”

“Hold on, dragon?” 

Merlin took a long drink at the memories the Great Dragon dredged up. “Kilgharrah. He’s the last of his kind. He’s the first one who told me about the prophecy.”

“Dragons can _talk?”_

Merlin huffed a little. “Not in any ways that make sense. They talk in _riddles._ I wonder if I could command him to make sense...” Merlin sipped at his drink some more, trying to decide if that was possible.

“Commanding a dragon,” Gwaine said in awe. “It sounds like you’ve been holding out on me, mate.” He spoke with obvious mirth, probably to make sure Merlin knew he wasn’t angry about the secret-keeping.

Merlin pushed his tankard out of the way. His head was buzzing too much to fathom drinking any more. “’m the last Dragonlord,” he said, dropping his head into his folded arms on the table.

“That. Is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Merlin peeked up at Gwaine, laughing a bit at the earnesty in his expression. “You’re ridiculous.”

Gwaine sent him a soft smile. “It’s good to hear you laugh.”

“Yeah, well,” Merlin said, eyeing his liquor again. “I didn’t think I’d be laughing for a long time. Maybe ever. I can see why you drink this stuff.” Gwaine snatched the tankard away and drained it before Merlin could grab it. “Hey!” 

“Mead isn’t the solution to your problems.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “Look who’s talking.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s how I know,” Gwaine said. A shadow crossed over his features. “Take it from someone who’s spent too long running.” 

“Gwaine...” Merlin hated the sadness in his voice.

“But tonight’s not about me,” Gwaine said dismissively, forcing a smile back onto his face. Merlin glared at it. He wasn’t fooled by those shiny teeth or the upward tilt of Gwaine’s lips. Merlin reached out a finger and poked Gwaine’s bottom lip. Gwaine inhaled sharply, but he didn’t move away, so Merlin didn’t either.

“Don’t fake smiles for me,” he said, pouting a little. His brain felt fuzzy, and his finger hummed where it met Gwaine’s lip. 

Gwaine slowly lifted a hand to pull Merlin’s away, grimacing slightly. “Alright, let’s get you to bed.”

Merlin hoped he hadn’t made his friend upset. That would be terrible, especially since Merlin didn’t have many friends left. He let Gwaine lift him out of his seat, even though he could walk on his own. Probably. The fact that the ground was rippling would make it difficult, but he could manage, if he wanted to. He didn’t want to, however, because Gwaine was warm and strong and... 

“Strength,” he mumbled, giggling. 

“What’d you say?” 

“The man at the bridge. He called you Strength.” 

“Should I be offended that you’re laughing about it?”

“No. Bridge man was right. You’re very strong.” Merlin dragged his eyes away from the rippling floor and focused on Gwaine’s chest instead. He wanted to put a hand there, so he did. “Warm, too.”

“What did he call you?” Gwaine asked. Was it Merlin’s imagination, or was his voice a bit strained? Was Merlin that heavy?

“Magic,” Merlin murmured, leaning away from Gwaine. 

“Merlin, what are you--”

“...can walk on m’ own. Don’t w’nna...be a burden.”

Gwaine huffed and pulled him close again. “You could never be a burden, Merlin.” 

Merlin looked at the ground again. It was still rippling. That wasn’t right. Water was supposed to ripple, not dirt. Merlin felt his magic rise up inside him, and water rushed past his feet. "Tha's better," he said with a nod of satisfaction that made his head spin.

“Merlin, did you just flood the place?”

“...floor moving like waves. Now i’s water. Makes more sense.” 

“Right. Just...maybe try not to fix anything else, okay?”

Merlin nodded, and then Gwaine was helping him up a few stairs and into a room. Gwaine deposited him on the bed and pulled off his soaked boots. Merlin wiggled his toes. They looked funny. Merlin started to giggle again, and when he looked up, Gwaine was giving him a look he didn’t understand. 

“What?” he asked, wondering if he had done more magic by accident. Bad Merlin. The internal reprimand made him crack up again. 

“We can talk more in the morning.” Gwaine helped Merlin under the blankets. When Merlin elbowed him in the face in the process, he hissed and pulled away. 

“Sorry! di’nt mean to...”

Gwaine was holding his cheek, but he rolled his eyes. “It’s okay, Merlin. I’ve faced worse creatures than your bony elbows.” 

Merlin felt his lip jut out, and he didn’t draw it back in. He was sad. He had hurt his friend. “’m sorry.” He tugged Gwaine closer by his wrist. “Le' me see it.” 

“Merlin, it’s okay. Really.”

“’m a physician’s appr’ntice. Lemme see.” 

Gwaine chuckled. “Somehow I doubt your skills are going to be very useful in this state.” 

Merlin tugged at him again, and Gwaine sat on the bed with a sigh. Merlin leaned in close, fingers lightly brushing Gwaine’s cheek. “...looks okay,” he said with relief, letting his fingers drop away from the wound to brush Gwaine’s beard instead. “Mmm...” he hummed. He liked Gwaine’s face. It was nice getting to touch it. 

“Merlin,” Gwaine said. 

“Hm?”

“It’s time to sleep.” 

Merlin nodded reluctantly, vision swimming at the movement. “Sleep with me.”

Gwaine coughed. “Er...” 

Merlin pouted a little. He couldn’t help it. 

“Just sleep,” Gwaine said, like he was clarifying something. 

Merlin didn’t understand what he was confused about, but it sounded like Gwaine was going to agree, so Merlin smiled proudly. “Yes.”

Gwaine looked at him for a moment longer and then snorted. “Alright, Merlin.” Soon, he had kicked off his boots as well, and he was climbing under the blanket.

There was a sound almost like purring, and Merlin realized it was coming from him as he curled into Gwaine’s side. “Warm,” he said in explanation. What was he trying to explain again? He couldn’t remember, but he nuzzled into Gwaine’s chest instead of trying to figure it out. 

“G’night, Gwaine,” he breathed.

Gwaine squeezed him once. “Goodnight, Merlin.”

Merlin liked cuddling with Gwaine, so he stayed still for a long time, but he wasn’t actually ready for sleep. There was something nipping at the edge of his subconscious, something bad. He felt his face pinch up as he tried to remember. It had something to do with him being here... 

Magic. That was it. Arthur had found out about his magic. 

“He said he never wants to see me again,” Merlin whispered, the memory tearing through the haze of alcohol like a new wound. 

“Arthur?” Gwaine asked. Apparently he was having trouble sleeping, too. Merlin wondered if he had bad memories haunting him as well.

Merlin nodded, mouth too swollen from restraining tears to speak. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Gwaine said, and his voice was more hesitant than Merlin had ever heard it. 

“...wha’?” Merlin squawked, sitting up. “Wha’ d’you mean?”

Gwaine stared up at him, something sad in his eyes. “You’ve given him too much of yourself. There’s loyalty, and then there’s you with Arthur. Even before I knew about the magic and the prophecy, I worried you would get yourself killed trying to protect him. But now I see it runs deeper than that.” Gwaine gave a bitter smile. “It’s one thing to die for someone, but it’s another to give your whole life.”

Merlin’s brows furrowed. His magic was working to sober him up, but either he’d drunk too much for it to do its job or his friend wasn’t making sense. “...I don’t understand.”

Gwaine just shook his head. “Never mind.” He was still smiling that horrible smile, and Merlin wanted to fix it, to turn it back into something recognizable--something carefree and happy like Gwaine should get to be. But even as Merlin despised that smile for marring Gwaine’s handsome features, he knew what a privilege it was to get to see him like this. To see the side of Gwaine that no one else could.

Merlin still didn’t know what Gwaine meant by this all being for the best, but he hoped that somehow it was true. Gwaine was smarter than people gave him credit for. Maybe he was right. As Merlin reclined once more, this time sober enough to process what Gwaine must have thought when Merlin asked him to sleep with him--sober enough to realize what it meant that he liked being close to Gwaine, that he liked touching him, and relaxing in his arms--he felt more at ease. He knew, in the morning, he’d be depressed again, possibly even more than he was earlier since the permanence of it all will have sunk in. He’d be quiet in his self-loathing and stoic in his misery. But tonight? Tonight he was warm and safe and still buzzed enough to be vulnerable. 

“Gwaine?”

“Yeah, Merlin?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I--” Merlin swallowed, the tears flowing now in spite of his efforts to hold them back. “I don’t have a purpose anymore.”

Gwaine pulled him tight, and Merlin was grateful that his face was hidden in Gwaine’s shirt. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this—not even Gwaine. 

“Most of us don’t,” Gwaine said. His voice was heavy and tired from more than a lack of sleep. “We just...try to get by. And if we’re lucky, we find happiness while we’re at it--and help others do the same.” 

“...’t sounds nice. Simple.”

“It is, sometimes.” Gwaine didn’t sound like he thought it was nice. 

“I don’t think I could live like you do,” Merlin said. “Never settling, always leaving people behind to find more strangers.”

“No, I don’t think so either.” Gwaine laughed grimly, and the sound reverberated through Merlin’s chest. “Nor can I, if I’m honest. I thought maybe Camelot could be home, but...”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Gwaine’s fingers found their way to Merlin’s hair, and Merlin leaned into the touch. “Have you ever thought about what you would do if you’d never heard of this prophecy?”

Merlin felt regret bubble up inside him--the kind he always felt for lost friends and lost chances. “There was a Druid girl. Freya. I helped her escape from a bounty hunter, and we were going to run away together, leave Camelot and start a life somewhere beautiful, with mountains and water and cows.”

“What happened?” 

“She was cursed,” Merlin said softly, heart aching for the plight of his first love, “to turn into a beast at night. The night we were planning to leave, she transformed and attacked Camelot. Arthur...he killed her.” Gwaine inhaled abruptly, and Merlin took the moment to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “I took her to Lake Avalon. It was like the place we talked about going. Beautiful, peaceful...the perfect resting place.” If there was such a thing as a perfect resting place for someone who deserved to live.

Gwaine was quiet for a long time, playing with Merlin’s hair. “If I thought you’d let me, I’d kill Arthur for the pain he’s caused you.”

Merlin smiled in spite of himself. “I know you would.” His momentary amusement left him in a whoosh. It wouldn’t take Gwaine killing him for Arthur to die. With Merlin gone, would he even last the week? As much as his heart broke at Arthur’s dismissal, there was no part of Merlin that wanted him to die. But how could Merlin protect him from so far away?

“Would you want to go someplace like you talked about with...Freya?” Gwaine asked, pausing to make sure he got the name right.

Merlin considered it. Gaius would probably be proud of him if he settled in a cottage in the woods and planted herbs to make medicines for the local people. Merlin thought he might like that. “I guess it’d be better than living like my father. When Uther sent soldiers after him, he left my mother for her protection and spent the rest of his life alone in a cave.” The thought of that nearly made Merlin wish he’d been burned at the pyre. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“You won’t be,” Gwaine said firmly. “I’ll stay with you as long as you’ll have me, and when you tire of my company, I’ll make sure someone else can take my place.”

Merlin smiled into Gwaine’s chest. “How many times do I have to tell you? I won’t tire of you. If anything, you’ll probably tire of me, with all the moping I’ll be doing.”

Gwaine laughed. “I think I can handle moping. Especially if you introduce me to that dragon you spoke of.” 

Merlin lifted his head up to look at Gwaine. It had been so long since he’d last seen Lancelot that it was startling to have someone he could be himself around--someone who could appreciate his magic and accept him as he was. “You want to meet Kilgharrah?”

Gwaine lifted his brows. “You personally know the last living dragon, and you think I _wouldn’t_ want to meet it?”

“Him,” Merlin corrected without pause. “Alright, I’ll call for him soon.” Maybe Kilgharrah would have thoughts on what Merlin should do next. Or perhaps he would just laugh at Merlin and tell him he failed, or say that all of this prophecy nonsense was a cruel joke. Either way, talking to Kilgharrah was probably a good next step.

Gwaine crowed happily, and Merlin couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of what Kilgharrah and Gwaine would think of each other. Merlin remembered his thought as he walked into the tavern, wondering whether he would ever laugh again. He was laughing now, and he knew it wasn’t just the alcohol. Already, Gwaine was proving it was possible to feel like himself again, even with Arthur’s rejection heavy on his mind. 

“Thank you,” Merlin said, playing with the ties on Gwaine’s shirt.

Gwaine didn’t have to ask ‘what for.’ “Any time, my friend.” Gwaine drew his fingers from Merlin’s hair to clasp Merlin’s hand in his. He lifted it gently and placed a kiss on Merlin’s knuckles. 

The skin Gwaine’s lips had touched tickled, akin to the electric feel of his magic. Merlin shifted so his face was inches from Gwaine’s. Silently asking for permission and receiving a small nod in return, Merlin brushed their lips together. The kiss was hesitant and chaste, but Gwaine was smiling when Merlin pulled away, and Merlin’s heart gave a happy leap. 

As soon as he had settled back against Gwaine’s chest, he felt his eyes grow heavy with sleep, no longer kept open by regrets and fears and sorrows. Like foul beasts, Gwaine had fended them off for the night, and Merlin could slip off into his dreams, knowing he would have to face them tomorrow but not alone.

Merlin’s banishment wasn’t for the best--he couldn’t force himself to believe that, no matter what Gwaine thought--but perhaps it could still lead to something good. Something like living his life for himself for once, like he’d almost gotten to do with Freya. Something like freedom, which Merlin had never experienced in Ealdor, a village too small for him to fade into the crowd, nor in Camelot, a kingdom dedicated to the eradication of his kind. Merlin knew he would need to find a purpose--would need to help people--to feel anything like content. But while he was mourning his destiny and everyone he had lost in his banishment from Camelot...Maybe, just for a while, he could try being selfish.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always appreciated <3 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @gwen-cheers-me-up for more Merlin content--or just to say hi!


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